by Laura Durham
She reached for a rocks glass filled with what looked like slightly pink milk and swirled the ice cubes in the bottom. "Fern told me I should stand out on my wedding day."
I shot Fern a look then smiled at Amelia. "You're the bride. You're the only one wearing a big white dress. You're carrying a red bouquet of roses shaped like a heart. Trust me, you already stand out."
"I'm surprised you all aren't drinking bubbly," Kate said, assessing the tumblers of blush-pink milk the bridesmaids held.
"I brought something better." Fern produced a pink-and-red bottle from behind a row of styling products on the counter. "Bailey's Strawberries and Cream. So sweet you don't know you're drinking booze. Mix it with a little vodka and it’s even better."
Perfect. Served me right for leaving Fern unattended with the bridal party for too long. I should have been glad Amelia didn't have a Mohawk.
"May I see you outside for a moment?" I asked Fern through gritted teeth.
He topped off his own glass of Bailey's and tossed it back before answering. "Of course, sweetie." He gave Amelia's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be right back to tell you girls my secret for the longest--"
I pulled him out by the elbow before he could finish his sentence and marched him into the living room. "What on earth are you doing in there?"
He smoothed his shirt after I released him. "Keeping Miss Nervous Nelly from having a panic attack and deciding she wants to rent flying monkeys and dress them in wings for the reception. What do you think I'm doing?"
"It looks like you're getting them drunk and making them look like members of an eighties hair band," Kate said.
Fern giggled. "That's just the happy by-product. What? You don't like the feathers?"
"It's a little much," I said. "I was hoping the bridal party could be the one normal element of the wedding."
"Then perhaps you should have mentioned that before I used three cans of hair spray to get those bangs to stay put." He sniffed and folded his arms over his chest. "If you want me to do boring old updos, I suppose I can redo everything."
"Thank you," I said, letting out a breath. "And if you make the bride look like an extra from Star Wars with some crazy sculpted heart on the top of her head, I'll tell everyone you shop at outlet stores."
He sucked in air. "You wouldn't."
I cocked an eyebrow at him and remained silent.
"Fine." He threw his hands over his head. "You win. Boring hair." He held up his pointer finger. "But I get to add spray glitter after the ceremony."
I extended my hand. "Deal. As long as the glitter isn't red."
We shook on it, and he flounced back into the bathroom muttering about needing more booze and hair spray. I heard him begin to regale the bridesmaids with his patented technique for doing something that involved whipped cream, and I walked away before I heard any details that might scar me for life.
Kate pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. "The lighting is in. John Farr's asking if we want to check it out."
"Let's go." I felt my own phone buzz and slipped it out of my pocket. Richard's name flashed on the screen.
"My life is torture," he said when I answered.
"What are you going on about? I know you don't have an event today."
"That's what's so torturous." He sighed. "I have no legitimate reason not to stay here with Leatrice all day."
"You're with her right now?" I followed Kate out of the suite. "Buster and Mack sent Prue over with baby Merry. That's going to be a full house in a few minutes."
"The baby's coming?" Richard's voice trembled.
"She's a baby, Richard. You can't be afraid of a baby. You used to feel the same way about dogs, remember?" I said. "Then you got Hermes and changed your mind."
"Hermes is unique," Richard said. "It's not every dog who can tell the difference between wool and cashmere."
And it wasn't every dog that wore a designer cashmere sweater. I'd long suspected that the dog's preferences were more Richard's than anything else.
"I'm sure Leatrice appreciates you bringing Hermes to see her," I said.
"Those two are as thick as thieves," Richard muttered, not sounding happy about it. "They're watching a Matlock rerun and eating popcorn."
As the little Yorkie's sometimes babysitter, Leatrice had formed a special bond with the dog and often treated him like a girlfriend. The two had gone to the movies, gone out for ice cream, and she'd once even given them matching manicures. Richard tolerated it because he hated the idea of putting Hermes in a kennel when he worked and had yet to find a dog sitter who would spoil the creature like Leatrice would.
"And what are you doing?" I asked as Kate and I stepped into the elevator.
"Plotting my escape. As soon as Prue arrives, I'm out of here. A baby and a dog should be enough to keep the old girl amused."
"Remember what you told me about Marcus last night?" I asked him but didn't wait for an answer. "Kate also found out that Marcus had a reputation for being indiscreet with people's secrets. We think he may have known all about Cassandra and Maxwell and their plot to scare Marcie into quitting."
"And you think they decided to poison Marcie before Marcus told her?" His voice crackled as the elevator took us to the ballroom level.
"We think Marcus was the intended victim all along," Kate said loudly, leaning in to the phone.
"Really?" He sounded intrigued.
"We assumed the killer was after Marcie because the chocolates were intended for her, but Cassandra knew she was on a diet and knew how close her boss was to Marcus. It wouldn't be a stretch to think she'd give the truffles to him."
"You might be right, Annabelle. She did work in the office, after all, and had access to the box as soon as I delivered it. Have you told all this to Reese?"
"I left him a message. Hopefully he gets it before he interviews her."
The elevator doors pinged open and we stepped out. The foyer had gone through a transformation since we'd left. Crimson silk cloths draped high-top tables, and panels of white fabric now covered the walls with LED spotlights on the floor, giving them a pink glow.
"Whoa," Kate said. "I'm almost afraid to look inside the ballrooms."
"Let's see how the X and O tables look."
"X and O?" Richard asked.
"The guest tables are shaped like giant Xs and Os," I explained. "You know, like you sign a letter? Hugs and kisses?"
"Darling, have you ever known me to sign a letter with Xs and Os?"
He had a point. "Not you, but people do it. Our bride does it in every email she's sent us for the past year. It's her signature closing. Since it fits with Valentine's Day, Buster and Mack have designed the guest tables to be Xs and Os."
"This I have to see."
I heard voices in the background followed by a series of yips and some baby babble. "What do you mean? Are you coming here? Now?"
Kate stared at me and made wild waving motions with her hands. The last thing we needed in an already overly dramatic day was Richard.
"If you think I'm spending the day with a teenager, a baby, a dog, and an old lady, you're out of your mind. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Wait--" I said before I heard nothing but dial tone. I looked down at my phone then up at Kate. "The good news is he isn't bringing the dog."
We walked to a cocktail table and took out our schedules, checking a few items off the list. Kate took a call on her cell and made another check mark on her timeline.
“The chocolate fountain people are at the loading dock,” she said, tapping her pen on the paper. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think I'd rather have the dog. At least we could dress him like a cherub and send him down the aisle with the flower girls. We can't do that with Richard. Now, Fern maybe."
"Whatever you do," I said, clutching her hands, “don't give Fern any ideas."
Her eyes caught something over my shoulder and her mouth fell open. "Too late."
28
"You can't be
serious," I told Fern as the long red velvet cape swirled around his ankles, a black-and-white diamond-patterned cummerbund cinching his waist.
"I'm the King of Hearts," he said, "and I think the look is very subtle."
"Is your cape lined in leopard-print fur?" Kate asked, reaching out and touching the edge of it.
"It's faux, sweetie, but yes." He spun for us and the cape belled out around him. "I got this specially for sending the bride down the aisle. I even have a scepter to poke those hussies with if they don't stay in line."
I put two fingers to my temple and made small circles with them. The wedding was teetering on the edge of kitsch as it was. Having a hairdresser direct the processional with a pretend scepter would easily send it skittering into comic territory.
"No scepters," I said.
Fern's face fell. "First no feathered hair and now no scepters? I hope this isn't going to be another basic wedding, Annabelle."
"I would love a basic wedding where the dog ring bearers don't run off with the rings, a groomsman doesn't accidentally moon the congregation when his suspenders snap, and the shuttles don't take the guests to the wrong hotel," I said, waving my hands in the air. "If you can get me one of those, I'd be deliriously happy."
Fern’s eyes widened at my outburst. "If that's what you want, fine, but it sounds boring to me." He gave a small shrug. "If it really bothers you, I won't use the scepter."
"Thank you," I said. "Now how close is the bridal party to being ready and unfeathered?"
"They're putting on the dresses now," Fern said. "All I need to do is attach the wings to the flower girls, and I can bring them down."
I flipped to the ceremony page of my timeline, checking the time on my sheet with the clock on the wall. "Then we're right on time. I owe you one." I held up a hand before he could speak. "But I'm still not going along with the scepter.”
He mumbled something about me being no fun during murder investigations as he spun and walked back toward the elevator bank.
"Does this have anything to do with the case?" Kate asked once Fern's swirling red cape had vanished behind the closing elevator doors.
I waited until a lighting technician passed carrying a ladder. "You mean am I a little tense knowing that one of our vendors today is a possible accessory to murder? Maybe."
"Maxwell?" Kate glanced around us. "I thought we decided he didn't kill anyone."
"I don't think he did, but if we're right about Cassandra, then he was part of the reason she killed Marcus. Who's to say he didn't suggest she bump off Mr. Loose Lips?"
"You said Reese was going to talk to her today, right?" Kate gnawed the edge of her bottom lip. "If Cassandra implicates Maxwell, you don't think your boyfriend would arrest him in the middle of our wedding, do you?"
My stomach clenched. That hadn't occurred to me. "He wouldn't dare," I said, sounding more confident than I felt.
"Even so," Kate said. "I'm going to find Maxwell and make sure he takes all our detail shots before he gets hauled off to the pig house."
I scratched my head for a moment as I tried to decipher her words. "Do you mean the big house, like prison?"
"Big house?" Kate's brows furrowed together. "I thought it was called the pig house."
"Nope."
She shrugged. "Too bad. Pig house sounds much better."
As she hurried off to find Maxwell, I took another peek at my timeline. Time for me to see if Buster and Mack had set out the escort card display. I knew their plan had been to assemble it inside the ballroom before walking it to the foyer right before guests arrived.
I pulled open one side of the heavy ballroom doors and ducked inside. The room had completely transformed since Kate and I had left. Flowers covered each of the large X tables, which we'd made using several long rectangles, and massive arrangements hung from the ceiling over each of the Os, which had been created by connecting multiple serpentine tables to form an oval-shaped table with a hole in the center. The X tables held one towering arrangement of pink-and-red roses, while the Os had a low runner of roses and hydrangea that ringed the inner edge, as well as the floral arrangement hanging above.
The shiny white dance floor was painted with the bride’s and groom's names inside a heart and lit with a spotlight from above, and a six-foot-tall heart made of red roses hung behind the band. I noticed the band members setting up on the stage and mentally checked them off my list. I saw John Farr up on a ladder at the corner of the dance floor and waved to him.
"What do you think?" Mack asked as he sidled up to me.
"It's something," I said, giving his thick arm a squeeze. "The bride is going to love it."
"That's what we want. Do you want to see how the escort card display turned out?" He jerked his head toward one corner, and I followed him.
Buster stood holding a handful of clear plastic arrows with red and pink paper attached to the ends to look like feathers. He turned toward me to reveal a Lucite heart-shaped target on a Lucite easel with at least a hundred arrows protruding from the surface. Each arrow, like the ones in his hand, had paper feathers on the ends with names and table numbers written on them. The color of the papers ranged from the palest pink to fuchsia to light red to crimson.
"It looks exactly like you described," I said, marveling at the display that would tell guests where to sit throughout the room.
Buster placed one of the remaining arrows into the clear heart. "They're arranged alphabetically from left to right and top to bottom, but it still may take people a while to figure it out."
"Either Kate or I can stand next to it and explain the concept," I said, knowing that wedding guests got easily overwhelmed, especially after a cocktail or two.
"Sometimes I wish we could stay for the party and see people's reactions when they walk into the room," Mack said.
Buster placed the last arrow and rocked back on his heels. "Not me. I'm fine leaving all the madness behind and taking a few hours off until we have to return to break it all down."
"I think the cake designers have the best job," I said. "They walk in, set up the cake, and leave. They don't even have to come back because their creation gets eaten."
Mack shuddered. "I don't think I could bear to think of guests eating what I'd worked on for days. Speaking of cake, is Alexandra doing this one?"
I shook my head. "She couldn't fly over this weekend. Luckily a red velvet cake covered in white fondant hearts isn't too complicated to pull off, so we found someone else to make it." I looked across the room and spotted the four-tier cake between the sweetheart table and the dance floor. "I miss having her around, and I know I'm going to miss nibbling on the sugar petals she puts around her cakes."
Our go-to cake baker had relocated to Scotland a few years back when the Type-A DC brides got to be too much for her. Now she only flew in to do cakes for our clients.
"It looks like this room is ready to go," I said. "Are the bouquets still down here or up with the bridal party?"
"Still down here," Buster said. "Maybe he can help you carry them upstairs."
I followed Buster's gaze and twisted to see Richard hurrying toward me. He wore a neatly tailored peacock-blue suit with a pale-yellow shirt open at the collar. Was this how he dressed on a casual Saturday, or had he always intended to crash my wedding? Either was entirely possible.
"There you are," he said when he reached me. "I've been searching high and low. Thank heavens Kate pointed me in the right direction." He swiveled as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. "So this is where red dye number two came to die."
I gave him what I hoped was a withering look, but he ignored it. "I told you the bride was obsessed with Valentine's Day."
"I thought you had a hard-and-fast rule against theme weddings after that Lord of the Rings wedding debacle where someone actually forgot the rings," Richard said.
"Compared to the groomsmen having to dress like hobbits, I thought the ring issue was minor," I said. "This wedding didn't start out as a theme
wedding, though. It began as a light motif."
"And morphed into something that Hallmark might find to be too much," Richard said.
"Are you here to critique or help me?" I asked, and before he could answer, I tugged him by the sleeve over toward where Mack stood.
The burly florist waved an arm at the white boxes against the wall. "I didn't want to deliver the bouquets without explaining."
I knelt down as he lifted the top off the biggest box to reveal a large heart-shaped bouquet made out of red roses clustered tightly together. "That doesn't need much explanation. That's for Amelia."
"Correct." Mack replaced the lid and lifted the one off another box. "These are for the bridesmaids."
Richard and I looked down at the pink-and-white bouquets nestled in tissue paper.
Mack held up a finger. "They look identical but they're not."
I leaned over to get a better look. Each cluster of pink roses and white hydrangea looked identical to the one next to it. "I give. How do I tell them apart?"
Mack lifted one out of the box. "Amelia had us wrap each one with a special charm that the girls pulled from her cake at the bridal shower. I pinned the name of the bridesmaid on the ribbon wrap so you'll know which one goes to which."
"So even though they look identical, they aren't interchangeable?" Richard asked.
Mack gave a quick shake of his head. "No. She wants each girl to get the right charm. It may look like you can switch them out, but she'll know the difference."
I stared down at the flowers that looked identical from the top but had one small difference. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before."
"Bridesmaids charms are nothing new, darling," Richard said. "Have you never used them before?"
"Not that." I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise of the band doing sound checks and the waiters filling the water glasses. "It never occurred to me that an identical one could have been substituted without anyone noticing."
"We aren't talking about bouquets anymore, are we?" Mack asked.
I opened my eyes. "Nope, but I think I know how the killer was able to get the poison into the truffle after Richard delivered the box."